


Episode 35: Deep Breaths

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [35]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clan Meso'a, M/M, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Clans, Mandalorian Culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 20:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20748248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "Kad, help me." ~KouciteshInside the Toch'akjah, Koucitesh takes a moment to breathe and make a last minute decision.





	Episode 35: Deep Breaths

Versh’vet gripped Terran’s hand, his body shaking uncontrollably as his mind tried to process the loss of feeling in his legs. Koucitesh, still leaning over the edge of the deus, tapped the back of Terran’s helmet with the butt of her spear.   
“I will help,” she said in Basic, knowing most of the crowd storming the Toch’akjah wouldn’t understand her.   
Terran turned to her and nodded, moving to kneel above the Chagrian’s head. Koucitesh looked back at Dedel and Xotolicue who were deep in conversation with Van’idal’s attendants; she flattened herself onto the stones and turned around, lowering herself down onto the Pol’xul. She landed gracefully under the cover of another stream of warriors racing up the pyramid. They were demanding answers she knew she’d have to give, but for now they hadn’t noticed her.   
“Take his head,” she advised, “Keep it and his shoulders against you so he doesn’t have to hold them up.”   
Terran did so, taking him by the armpits and bringing him up so his back was against his chest. As he did so, Koucitesh took his legs at the knees and put them under each arm.   
“One, two, three,” she and Terran hoisted Versh’vet up, adjusting him when he grunted in pain.   
“The medbay is this way,” Terran nodded to his right. There are entrances spread around the top three levels of the Toch’akjah, and he knew there was one only twenty feet or so away. They took it slow, doing their best not to swing him too violently as they shuffled around the corner and out of sight.   
“Will they need you?” Terran asked.   
“Yes,” Koucitesh admitted, “But nothing can be done for the dead. Only the living.” she smiled up at him.   
She couldn’t see his reaction behind the helmet and he didn’t say anything else for the remainder of their journey down the winding corridors to the central atrium. From behind, footsteps echoed up the hall as her attendants caught up with them. Barsurl, a female Trandoshan, reached them first with her sister Meiri following close behind.   
“Alert the medbay staff, please, and get a stretcher,” Koucitesh ordered before either of them could speak.   
They paused, but rushed off when her face grew stern. She sighed and apologized to Terran and Versh’vet, but both shook their heads.   
“Stop moving, cyare,” Terran whispered.   
Versh’vet let out a grunt which was hard to discern through his panting. Being lifted like this only added onto the growing anxiety he was feeling. Pain like he hadn’t felt before was shooting up his spine and he wanted nothing more than to move or stretch, as if that would help. Making things worse was that after he fell, he largely lost track of what happened on the deus. He knew Terran would fill him in, but whatever it was, nothing good would come from it.   
The atrium was a large square room with sloping sides to match the slope of the pyramid. The walls were decorated with hanging plants, vines, and an assortment of flowers native to the different regions of the planet. Garuntha’s favorite had been a large, bell-shaped carnivorous plant with red-and-green leaves and a sickly sweet odor. Of the nine in the room, two were in full bloom and happily digesting the fat lake flies that plague the rainy season. With the outer portion of their leaves being predominantly red, they blended in rather well with the red walls, meaning they were all planted around the central fountain. Though they didn’t eat anything larger than a small Nagut, it was better to see them than to not.   
“Let’s stop here,” Koucitesh indicated the benches between the planters and the fountain. The breeze coming off the water mixed with the spray was cooling compared to the humidity of the room. They angled Versh’vet over the wood bench and set him down slowly. He groaned again, panting from the exertion, and tried to settle as comfortably as possible.   
Koucitesh backed away and slumped down beneath the planter, letting the exhaustion she’d been holding back for weeks finally overcome her. Between loss, anxiety, and her duties as an Alor, she felt drained beyond what she could handle. In the past week, she’d lost several people dear to her. Today, she’d lost a friend. Not a close friend, though she and Van’idal were close in age, but the vacuum it would cause in the clan...not to mention the horrific nature of his death at the hands of his own mother. She pressed her palms into her face, not caring about the smearing of her face paint. Her chest was tight and her shoulders were numb, the cramping her feet from walking to the capital still hadn’t subsided. She’d only been an Alor for three years. Something like this hadn’t happened in centuries. Raiders died all the time, that wasn’t new. Neither was receiving the armor and bodies of the deceased, they had protocols for that...but never in well over a century had another Clan contacted them directly. They’d intercepted open broadcasts meant for any Clan that recieved it. They’d overheard chatter when other Mandalorians unknowingly got too close to them, but never this. How Vizla had done it, how they’d known about the Raiders…   
“Kad help me,” she whispered, dragging her hands down her face.   
She rubbed her eyes free of the thick paint she’d just smeared into them and opened them, knowing she had to face reality again soon. What she saw when she did was something that probably wasn’t for her to see, but in a way, it lit a fire in her. Terran was kneeling over Versh’vet and saying something Koucitesh couldn’t make out. She didn’t try to, knowing it was something only for the two of them, but couldn’t help but smile when they shared a kiss. It was followed by Versh’vet socking him in the stomach; Koucitesh chuckled a little too loudly, causing Terran to flush and sit back on his heels. The moment was then shattered completely by Barsurl and Meiri returning with the medbay staff, a medical droid, and the stretcher she’d requested.   
“We need to return to them,” she said, placing a hand on Terran’s shoulder.   
“Thank you,” he raised his chin to her before turning to follow the group down another set of winding corridors to the medbay. When he was out of earshot, she straightened up to her full height and accepted her spear from Meiri.   
“P’tal,” she said, face darkening, “Kime ven’hel.” (“Come. Death is coming.”)   
“Le, alor,” they both replied, following just behind her as they raced back out to the deus.


End file.
